I suppose beyond "Buttons," another appropriate mob nickname for me would be Knuckles, though it seems a bit shopworn. However, I happen to have a proclivity for cutting, scraping or otherwise injuring my knuckles. (And it goes without saying that I am not a classic knuckle-scraper as most mobsters are portrayed in cliche movies, books and other media.)
At one given time, I nearly had a scrape on every single knuckle of my hands. Three were from hitting a heavy bag without proper protection. I had wrapped them (that's only to protect the wrists). There were no gloves around and I foolhardily believed that the wraps would be sufficient protection for my delicate little hands. Unfortunately, I was proved wrong in a glaring, conspicuous way. I had scraped off enough layers of skin to produce blood.
Shortly after my bad decision to hit a heavy bag without gloves, I was thrown from my bike thanks to a neglectful driver who opened his door on me while I was traveling at a relatively high rate of speed. Said driver did not look but flung the door open, causing me to crash into his open car door and flinging me hard, crashing down to the street, taking a pair of handlebars into my chest plate like a small but powerful fist. (I went to the emergency room later to ensure that I had not fractured my sternum or broken a rib.) (Another side note here--I hit his car door so hard, he was unable to close it, forcing him to be towed. Instant justice, folks.) Initially, I thought I had broken my right ring finger. I was indeed fortunate, for I had only slammed it into the door, causing some bleeding and a temporary loss of its use.
That's four knuckles down. Shortly after the bike accident, I cut another knuckle slicing cucumbers and whipped some blood from yet another while attempting to change a guitar string. The thing just flew off the fret and sliced hard into my thumb, taking a bite of the dermis in the process.
The lesson? It's a dangerous world. Protect your hands.
